


Five Days In Which All Was Once Lost

by This Girl Is (non_sequential)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/pseuds/This%20Girl%20Is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When every wizarding child under the age of 10 begins chanting in unison, Auror partners Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are teamed up with Draco Malfoy and Octavius Alden to find out what is causing it, and make it stop. An explosion in Cardiff leads them to a mystery weirder than any of them could have imagined, and between them they’ve seen some <i>weird</i> stuff.</p><p>(Crossover between Harry Potter and Torchwood: Children of Earth)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Days In Which All Was Once Lost

The first time every wizarding child under the age of 10 suddenly halted in their tracks, nobody really noticed. In a reality where the surreal is commonplace, it was just another unlikely occurrence occurring. The chanting, however, caused a massive parental panic.

Which was why Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were in an emergency briefing with some of the Ministry’s top Aurors. The fact that this number included Draco Malfoy and Octavius Alden was somewhat galling. Harry had nothing against Alden, but Malfoy had somehow managed to present himself as a rival in every aspect of Harry’s life since they were eleven years old, and he could have done without the other man underfoot now.

The briefing had already stretched for hours. The Department of Mysteries had reported no detectable magical interference with the children they had examined; neither Percy nor Kingsley himself had been able to get anything but earnest expressions of concern and determination from the Muggle Prime Minister, and the ideas coming out of their brainstorming were increasingly ridiculous.

“The Muggle Prime Minister was being cagey about what they might or might not know,” Kingsley stated. “Which I think sugge-“

“In what way was he ‘cagey’?” Alden interrupted. It was the first thing he’d said through the course of the briefing, though he’d been taking copious notes.

Kingsley looked at the man for a moment, his expression inscrutable. “His attitude was not unlike that of Senior Undersecretary Umbridge in her heyday.”

“So we can expect that the Muggle government may attempt to discredit or even remove anyone who might actually know anything about what’s going on,” Harry put in.

“That’s right, Potter.” Malfoy’s drawl had never lost its fingernails-on-the-blackboard effect on Harry. The muscles all down his back tightened and his teeth clenched. “Merlin forbid we should go an hour without being reminded of your heroic past.”

“Draco.” Alden reproved.

“And Merlin forbid we go an hour without you having a go at me, you enormous drama queen!”

“Harry!” Kingsley snapped.

“If you weren’t such an attention whore I wou-“

“SILENCE.” Harry’s eyes cut to the left from where he and Malfoy leaned over the conference table towards each other, up the table to where Kingsley stood, the throbbing vein in his forehead indicating that they were about to push him that little bit too far. “We are all theoretically adults in this room. Don’t make me send you to separate corners for a Time Out. We have more important things to be dealing with than your poor impulse control.”

With his focus on Malfoy broken, Harry realised that his fingers stung. Yanking them off the table, he realised the stinging was caused by the span of table top between himself and Malfoy smouldering fiercely. He glared at Malfoy who was murmuring a Healing spell at his own fingers.

“Err-“

“Minister!”

Saved by the runner. Harry quietly extinguished the table.

“What is it, Ponsonby?”

“There’s been another incident with the children.”

Kingsley ran his hand over his face and sighed. “The same again?”

“Yes sir. Except at the very end. They finished with ‘We are coming. Back.’”

There was a silence in the conference room as everyone tried to comprehend what this might mean to the investigation. And then Malfoy piped up. “So we should check out amateur theatre groups as a starting point, then?”

Ron sniggered, while Kingsley looked like he was about to tear a strip off Malfoy when a second runner entered the room. “Excuse me, Minister. I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked to be kept appraised of anything unusual.”

“I did, Thorndon. What have you got?”

“An explosion in Cardiff, sir. The Roald Dahl Plass has been almost entirely demolished.” Thorndon shuffled his feet. The runners were usually interns fresh out of Hogwarts. Harry would have sworn they got younger every year.

Kingsley pointed at Harry and Ron and then, incredibly, at Malfoy and Alden. “You four. I want you to investigate. Alden, Weas- Alden, I’m relying on you to keep these two in check.”

“Does it really need all four of us, Kingsley? It’s just an explosion. Ron and I could handle it ourselves.” And not have to spend the rest of the night in close proximity to Malfoy, he refrained from adding.

“No, Harry. Cardiff has been the centre of too many unexplained incidents, and this is our only lead so far on the issue with the children. I want two teams on the ground there. The rest of us will continue to see what we can come up with. I want regular reports of _anything_ you discover. Now stop wasting time and get going.”

~O~

Disillusionment Charms allowed them to observe the activity around the site closely.

“Tell you what,” they heard one policeman say to another as they watched the black-clad woman who was clearly in charge of the operation, “If she’s anti-terrorist, I would not mind being Uncle Terrorist.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’ll tell you what, if she’s ‘anti-terrorist’, I’ll eat his appalling headgear.”

“There was definitely at least one person in there.” Harry said, as his diagnostic spell came back to him. “There’s traces of human remains over… pretty much everything.” He grimaced. What an awful way to go. “At least, they’re _probably_ human. There’s something a bit wonky about the readings, but there’s not enough in one place to get any detail.”

The woman in black was walking towards them, rattling orders to the heavily armed men flanking her. “Get some back-up. Two escaped suspects – Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper. Armed and dangerous.”

“I know Gwen Cooper,” the policeman chimed in.

Fortunately the flickering light of the fires from the explosion, the lights of the emergency vehicles and the sheer noise of the bomb-site disguised Malfoy’s movement as he clapped his hand to his forehead, and muttered, _“You bloody Hufflepuff.”_

“She’s an ex-police officer. She’s not a terrorist.”

The woman gave the officer a look of which Snape would have been proud. “Haven’t you got tape to tie?”

 _”A hit! A palpable hit!”_

 _“Oh my God, Malfoy. Will you_ shut up _before they notice us.”_

 _“Draco. Try to remember the_ stealth _part of your training, will you?”_

“I’m just saying, you’re barking up the wrong tree, that’s all.”

The woman huffed and turned away, her focus immediately back on the orders she was issuing. “I want their homes raided.”

The policeman’s shoulders went back as he hooked his hands into the neckline of his vest. “Gwen Cooper is _not_ a terrorist.” He called to the woman’s back.

 _”Mind you,” whispered Ron, “Malfoy’s got a point.”_

 _“Ron?_ Shut. Up.”

The woman swung around, the disdain in her expression changing to predatory interest. “You must know where she lives.”

Alden quietly fired out orders of his own. _”Potter and Weasley, keep an eye on the site, see if anyone finds anything interesting, or if you can get anything about this Jones chap. Malfoy and I will follow our friends, and see if they or Cooper lead us anywhere. Check in at the Ministry at seven hundred hours if we don’t see you before then.”_

The rest of the evening was a textbook example of the painfully dull stakeout. The emergency services eventually cleared out for the night, leaving the soldier-types working though the rubble. Eventually Shacklebolt let them know that Cooper had been a dead end and sent them home, with orders to return in the morning.

~O~

“We should have brought marshmallows.” Malfoy announced, entirely at random. Harry closed his eyes and took another pull of his enormous Starbucks Americano. There was not enough coffee in the world to alleviate the presence of Malfoy in the morning.

“What for?” asked Ron. Either humouring Malfoy or disgracefully gullible, Harry wasn’t quite sure which, even after two years of disturbing mutual tolerance between the pair.

“Well, we’ve got a bonfire of epic proportions. Therefore, we should have marshmallows. Clearly.”

Ron tilted his head, considering the flames in the wreckage below. “Be a bit tricky to get to the flames though. Probably not worth the effort.”

Malfoy glared at Ron for a minute and then sighed, presumably giving up his toasty marshmallow dreams. “I want ice cream.” Harry’s coffee cup crumpled slightly as his fist clenched, and he took another swallow.

“Hang about, I think they’ve got something.” Ron’s eyes were trained on the rescue team.

“Do you think they found a survivor?” Harry asked, coming to attention.

“Only one way to find out,” Ron replied, reaching into the pocket of his battered leather pilot’s jacket. He pulled out one of George’s latest prototypes – Disillusioned Extendable Ears, designed to be nearly invisible while in use. Harry grinned, and pulled out his own. A quick _Wingardium Leviosa_ had the listening end floating down into the crater.

 _”…ench your hand. It’s not a body, it’s just the arm.”_

The woman in black, who had already been on site when they arrived, nodded. Her expression didn’t change, but her entire body radiated satisfaction.

“I strongly suspect _he_ might have some idea what’s going on,” Alden jerked his head to indicate a somewhat battered young man watching the scene from a nearby rooftop. Restrained fury showing in every visible line of his body, as the remains from the bombsite were loaded into a bodybag on a stretcher, and from there into a black vehicle marked ‘Private Ambulance’.

Harry nodded. “We need to split up. We’ll keep an eye on her, you see what you can get from him.”

“Whilst I hate to interrupt your blatant assumption of control, Potter, perhaps it would be appropriate if Alden and I follow the vicious looking lady in black, and you and Weasel… ey take the angry young man on the roof?”

The temptation to tell him to fuck off was immense but, fortunately for his career, Harry had acquired some self-control since their Hogwarts days. He only had to take one deep breath before agreeing, possibly a _tiny_ bit curtly.

Harry shot a quick Tracking spell at the man on the roof, and finished off his coffee. “Got him,” he said to Ron. “Let’s go.”

“Bring me ice cream when you’re done!” Malfoy called after them. Harry waved his middle finger back over his shoulder without looking back.

~O~

Tracking spells were all very well and good when you knew the territory the trackee was in, but in an unknown city they were less helpful than one might think. They could hardly follow the man on brooms, and telling a taxi-driver to ‘follow that cab’ only worked in the movies. They knew, because they’d tried it once, with embarrassing results. Using a map Hermione had helped create, they tracked his progress across Cardiff, jumping to known Apparation Points he passed to keep close.

Eventually they found him at a park with a children’s play area where a woman about their age was sitting at a picnic table. Harry and Ron hid near the treeline and rolled out the only slightly singed Invisible Ears.

“What sort of civil servants _are_ you?” The woman was asking.

The man snorted. “Unappreciated ones.”

“Are they OK? The people you work with?”

“I dunno. Gwen’s alive, I’ve just no way of contacting her. I’m not sure about Jack.”

Harry was confused. There didn’t seem to be a fourth person involved. This was Jones, Cooper was Gwen who was alive but uncontactable, so surely ‘Jack’ was the one who was, according to the woman in black, ‘almost a waste of a body bag’. But Jones had watched them put the remains in the ambulance.

“Is he… your boss? The one Susan saw you with?”

Unless…

“He’ll be OK. They won’t get rid of him that easy. I just need to find him.”

Unless death was less permanent for this ‘Jack’ than for some. He’d been inclined to assume that the woman in black was the baddie in this, but that was a mistake he’d made before.

“Uh, mate.” Ron shook him out of his thoughts. He’d been so focussed on Jones and his companion that he hadn’t noticed the silence that had fallen over the playground. Every child in the brightly painted playground was standing unnaturally still.

 _“We are coming tomorrow.”_

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Hearing the scene described was no preparation for the blank stares and eerie stillness as the half dozen children stopped where they stood, repeating over and over, entirely in unison, “We are coming tomorrow.”

Then they were back, carrying on as if nothing had happened. Abruptly, as though in fast forward, Jones was telling his companion that this was the sort of thing ‘they’ dealt with, grabbing her laptop, demanding her car keys and peeling out of the carpark with a screech of tyres and a smell of burning rubber.

The woman yelled, “Be careful!” and stared after her car. Ron turned to him. “Makes you glad not to have kids yet, eh? Where do you reckon that fell on the Harry Potter Creepy Scale?”

Pulling back his Extendable Ear, Harry replied, “Well, I’m not sure about the fine detail of placing but I’d put it up there with Dementors and Voldemort living in the back of Professor Quirrell’s head. Definitely in the top ten. So now what? We’ve no idea who the girl is.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s definitely not in on it. Just a worried Mum who owes Jones a favour, I’d say. I reckon we check in with Kingsley, and Alden and Malfoy, then see where Jonesie’s headed.”

“Good call. Can we grab some coffee on the way? I’m pretty sure we’re going to end up back with Malfoy and Alden, and I don’t think I can cope without more caffeine.”

Ron pulled the Hermione’s MagNav Map from his pocket. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a Cheering Charm? I worry about what you’ll do if you end up with the jitters and pissed at Malfoy.” He pointed to the Apparation point down a back alley that Jones had just passed. “There he goes.”

Harry glared at Ron and snatched the Map off him, Apparating to the indicated App Point. Ron could sort himself out if he was going to be a git.

~O~

“Where’s my ice cream?” Malfoy demanded. “I can’t believe you went for coffee and didn’t buy me ice cream, you miserable bastards.”

“Costa are not well known for their ice cream supply, Malfoy. Now shut up. I’m worried about this Jack guy. We _saw_ the ambulance take away an arm, a shoulder and part of a head. So why is Jones so worried about getting him, not his body, _him_ back? He was dead. I think we should consider for a minute what it means if he isn’t anymore.”

“You don’t think…” Harry would have sworn that Malfoy’s face couldn’t have got any paler than it normally was, but apparently he’d have been wrong. He couldn’t quite bring himself to get excited about it, though.

“The fact that they’re pouring an awful lot of concrete into what appears to be a cell certainly suggests they’re worried about _something_ getting away.” Alden pointed out. “And Jones is quite upset about it.” He jerked his thumb to the rise where Jones was watching through binoculars as the concrete was poured, seemingly endlessly into the building.

“Bloody brilliant, though,” Ron said. “The concrete. If only we’d thought of that with Voldemort. It’s got to be tricky to pronounce Avada Kedavra with a mouthful of concrete.”

Harry nodded regretfully. How much easier would his life have been if someone had just turned Voldemort into a king size building block?

“You’re sure Jones was talking about helping?” Malfoy asked. “There was no cackling, or gleeful hand rubbing?”

Ron answered, “Mostly he seemed pretty desperate. Like he didn’t really know what was going on, and was freaked out by the whole assassination attempt thing. Which, I dunno, seems sort of out of character for a villain of the piece.”

Finally the pouring rig was pulled away from the building and dismantled, and the truck pulled away a little down the access road.

“Can’t villains be freaked out by near-miss assassination attempts?” Harry asked.

He was a little surprised when Alden interjected, “Of course. But they usually have some idea why the attempt was made. They might not _expect_ it, but they’re unlikely to be entirely baffled by it.”

“I guess. But what if he’s a dupe? Thinks he’s doing the right thing by someone? Or has himself convinced-”

“As scintillating as this debate of possible motives is,” Malfoy snapped, surging to his feet, “It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere right now, and if he does I’m sure the three of you can cover it. I’m going for ice cream. I’ll be back.”

Silence filled the gap left by his outburst, and the crack of his Apparation.

“Blimey,” said Ron, “What was that about?”

~O~

Several hours later, Jones had thoroughly explored the surrounding area as far as the main road to the south and the quarry to the north-west; stolen a car and abandoned it in the quarry; looked at his watch about a million times; sat staring intently at the building for about three quarters of an hour; and Malfoy had returned, eventually, with his ice cream.

He had magnificently ignored Ron when he asked if Malfoy had had to churn the milk himself.

“I take it I’ve not missed anything important?”

“Not a bloody thing,” Ron grumbled before Harry could say something rude.

Malfoy shrugged and sat down. His ice cream, which had the warm golden tone that only came from being made entirely from actual cream, dripped down the side of the cone. Harry had never envisioned Malfoy eating ice cream from anything as plebeian as a cone. He had _certainly_ never envisioned Malfoy’s tongue sensuously licking the side of the cone, lapping up the creamy trail, although it was an image that might be haunting him for many nights to come. And how wrong was that?

“Incoming,” Malfoy indicated the gate of the complex, where a hearse had pulled up to the security bar. Ron sniggered, and Malfoy raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“Sorry. It’s just that that usually means Seamus is about to fart mightily.” Ron grinned. Dragging his mind back from where it had been wandering, Harry smirked.

“Delightful,” Malfoy said with a sniff, and turned his attention back to his dripping ice cream.

Harry was watching Malfoy and his ice cream, idly fantasising about the mobile tongue and ways he might stop it from making words, when alarms started blaring from the complex – the place suddenly coming alive with flashing lights and scrambling soldiers.

“Jones is on the move!” Alden called from the rise where he had been keeping an eye on the man.

Harry and Ron jogged over to Alden, Malfoy ambling behind. Jones was running toward the quarry at a good clip.

“You two keep an eye on that lot. Draco and I will follow Jones.” With that, Alden and Malfoy Apparated to the next ridge. In the distance, Malfoy could still be seen finishing his ice cream.

A few minutes later they were back, as a forklift rattled its way over the rough ground between the quarry and the complex.

“What the bloody hell is he doing?” Harry wondered aloud.

“I have no idea,” Malfoy replied, “But whatever it is, he’s doing it in a yellow helmet and an eye-watering vest.”

As they watched, the forklift trundled down the slope toward the complex and went around the back. Moments later, a section of the roof collapsed in a cloud of dust and an enormous block of concrete rolled around the side of the building. As it got closer to them, they could see it was being carried by Jones’ stolen forklift.

Soldiers were firing their weapons at the vehicle and a woman, presumably Cooper, was shooting back.

“Good grief.” Alden said, as they watched it sway along the access road under its burden.

As they passed the concrete truck, the forklift stopped and a man and woman jumped out. They moved the concrete truck across the access road and somehow blew it up. Flames rolled out from beneath its carriage, and the forklift trundled back toward the quarry.

They Apparated to the quarry, arriving in time to watch the forklift approach from the top. The man and woman who had joined Jones at the complex jumped out and raced for the car, while Jones set the forklift to extend its load out over the yawning pit, then released it. The block seemed to hover for a moment before tumbling almost gracefully to the quarry floor.

Jones leapt into the car, and the three sped down the track to where the rubble was settling.

“Merlin’s tears,” Ron whispered, as a figure rose from the billowing dust. A naked man stepped forward, hands shackled in front of him. He moved to face the car hurtling towards him, shoulders tense with fear, but standing proudly. As Jones, Cooper and the other man tumbled out of the car, his stance barely changed, but the fear left it.

Cooper threw the third man’s jacket to him, and he slung it over his shoulder. Still naked, he climbed into the back of the car, and they drove away.

“Well,” said Malfoy, “That was different.”

~O~

“I’m just saying that our previous experience with people who ought to be dead and aren’t, has not been what you might call positive.” Ron had folded his arms in that way he had that meant was digging in with all his stubborn might.

They had tracked Team Forklift to an enormous warehouse in an industrial area of London. Alden and Ron were insistent that they continue to observe. Harry was fed up with leaving the situation in the hands of strangers. They stood outside the entrance to the warehouse, under heavy Disillusionment and Muffliato spells.

“The not-dead guy is a worry. But we haven’t seen them try to kill anybody, which is more can be said for the other lot. And the fact is that whoever is causing all this is supposed to be coming tomorrow and we don’t actually know any more than we did yesterday. We have to talk to _somebody_ ,” Harry insisted.

“The fact that we haven’t _seen_ them try to kill anybody is hardly conclusive, Potter. We will not just walk into a potentially hostile situation purely on the basis of your impetuosity.” Alden was firmly on the side of caution.

“There’s too much we don’t know,” Malfoy put in. “I vote we go in, and find out. If it all goes wrong, we can always just Obliviate them.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell Malfoy to butt out. It stayed open as he realised that he and Malfoy were on the same side. That was just so wrong.

Malfoy just raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s assuming that we _can_.” Ron protested. “If he can Not Die, what else can he do? What can any of them do? We _don’t know_ , Harry. It’s a hell of a risk to take, and we’re not kids any more.”

“Doing nothing and hoping someone else will sort it out seems like a hell of a risk too, Ron. What happens tomorrow? We don’t know that either. So we’re weighing up putting the four of us in a potentially dangerous situation by going in there, versus putting all the children in the country, maybe the world, in a potentially dangerous situation by doing nothing. The whole point is that we’re the adults now, and we’re not putting kids on the line in our place, because it’s _our job_. Remember, Ron? Do you remember that?”

Harry was practically nose to nose with Ron, or he would be, if he wasn’t a good six inches shorter than his best friend. His best friend who was _wrong_. Ron’s shoulders drooped and his eyes slid to the side. Suddenly he looked startled. As Harry turned to see what Ron was looking at, the warehouse door slid wide open and Malfoy stepped into the gloomy opening.

“Is this the secret hideout for saving the world? Sorry we’re late, I think our invitation got lost in the post,” he proclaimed.

He was answered by the sound of gun safeties being drawn back.

~O~

Despite the number of weapons on each side, the confrontation had been blessedly brief. The explanations, however, were taking much longer.

“Wizards,” Cooper said, flatly. “Like, spells and magic wands, and funny hats.”

“Yes,” Malfoy said, “Precisely like that. Behold, in fact, my actual magic wand.” He flourished it. “Shall I demonstrate a magic spell? I think we’ll start with a basic warming charm.” As he drew breath to begin the charm, the guns were trained on him again.

Malfoy immediately let the wand go loose in his grasp. “Really. Just a warming charm. I don’t know whether you noticed, but it’s fucking freezing in this oversized tin shack.”

“All right,” said the man from the quarry, Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. The rest of Team Forklift gave him a Look, quite an impressive feat for Jones and Cooper considering they never took their eyes off the Aurors. Harry got the feeling they had quite a lot of practice.

“What?” Harkness challenged. “It’s damn cold in here. Show me some magic.”

Malfoy murmured the charm, and the air immediately lost the chill edge of a long-neglected place.

“Handy,” said Jones. “And really – aliens. We’re hardly in a position to be sceptical.”

“Wait,” Harry had been trying to be quiet and non-threatening, but _aliens_? “Hang on a sec. Aliens. As in creatures from another planet. That kind of aliens? Why are we talking about aliens?”

“It’s what we do.” Cooper replied. “We fight aliens. Which really do exist. Like magic. Oh my god, Rhys! Magic is real!” She sat back heavily on the decrepit sofa they had presumably liberated from somewhere, gun dangling from her right hand and her left covering her face as she tilted her head back and laughed.

“The world is rather more complicated than anyone ever realises,” Alden said. “Which brings us rather nicely back to the point. Every Wizarding child under the age of ten has started freezing and chanting simultaneously. Almost immediately after it started, your place on Cardiff got blown sky-high. I am not a believer in coincidences, so this leads us to conclude that you are in some way involved. If you are acting to end it, we will help you, but you need to explain what’s going on.”

There was silence as Team Forklift held a conversation of tilted heads, raised eyebrows and shrugs. Jones murmured something to Harkness about something that sounded like ‘retcon’, whatever that might be.

“Here’s the thing,” Harkness began, smiling like a conman, “We have no idea. There was a case with a hitchhiker, an alien parasite effectivel-“

“Symbiote. Really.” Jones interrupted. “It wasn’t doing him any harm, it was just sort of… along for the ride.”

“Right, an alien symbiote.” Harkness continued, with a slight roll of his eyes. “There was a doctor at the hospital with a case of disappearing corpses. He was shot at the same time I was. And then I got blown up, and my remains were taken to wherever the hell I was, and you know the rest.”

“Ah.” Cooper said from the sofa where her husband, Williams, had joined her.

“’Ah’? What do you mean, ‘Ah’?” Harkness demanded, suddenly looking commanding despite the dust and ragged tracksuit bottoms.

“Do you know what would make this little debrief more comfortable?” Malfoy abruptly enquired, “Chairs.”

Team Forklift all looked a little startled, as if they had forgotten the Aurors were there. Which was probably, Harry thought uncharitably, what had prompted Malfoy to interrupt.

“We’re a little short on creature comforts right now,” Harkness began. He stopped when Malfoy pointed his wand at a padlock on the ground and transfigured it into a well-padded, high backed armchair, which he then draped himself across languidly. The big show off.

Eight people rearranging themselves to make sure that all of the others were in eyeline (seven, really, as Williams didn’t seem bothered) took a little manoeuvring, but eventually enough seats had been transfigured, and everyone was happy.

“Alright Gwen,” Harkness said, “Tell us all about ‘Ah’”.

Cooper reached for Williams’ hand. “Basically, we tried to get in touch with Frobisher. We ended up meeting with an office temp, Lois.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Frobisher authorised the hit. We’re on our own.”

“Who is Frobisher?” Alden asked.

“He’s our man in the government.” Harkness replied. “Our main contact. But he’s just a civil servant, he’s nothing. What makes him start deciding to authorise executions?”

“He probably didn’t,” said Malfoy. “We’re fairly certain the Muggle Prime Minister knows more than he’s prepared to let on. Most likely he… suggested it to your Frobisher.”

“King sacrifices pawn.” Ron said. “Plausible deniability.”

“Precisely, Weasel.”

“But that doesn’t make any _sense_!” Cooper cried. “We can help! We’re possibly the only ones who can. Why have us killed?”

“The Umbridge Effect.” Malfoy murmured.

There was no way Harry was letting this slide. “Sorry, Malfoy, I didn’t quite hear you. It sounded like you said, ‘Potter was right’. Was that what you said?”

“All right, Potter.” Alden interrupted wearily. “Can we have our company manners on, please?”

Malfoy, who had drawn breath to retaliate, just smirked.

Jones hurriedly stepped in. “So, the ‘Umbrage Effect’, I think you said?”

“Long story short,” Ron responded, “Government goes into denial about something bad happening and attempts to silence or completely remove anyone who might disagree with their take, or know more than they do. It’s something we’ve seen before.”

“But we don’t _know_ anything.” Cooper protested.

“Or rather,” Alden replied, “You don’t know what you know.”

“Well, while we figure it out, we should probably make some plans.” Jones suggested. “We need food, sleeping bags and clean clothes.” He sniffed. “A bath. Not to mention internet access and electricity for light.”

“We can help with the cleanliness issues and the light,” Harry offered. “A couple of quick cleaning spells will freshen you up.”

“I _really_ need to get out of these tracksuit bottoms,” Harkness complained.

“Yes, but we’ve talked about wearing pants in company, Jack,” Cooper shot back.

Harkness just pointed a finger at her. “So, what do we actually have?”

The answer appeared to be a couple of guns, a penknife, one laptop with hardly any battery left, two mobile phones, 3 credit cards, a pair of contact lenses, a lemsip, a book of stamps and £15.25 in cash.

“The phones and the credit cards can all be traced, so they’re no use.” Jones said. “We’ve also got most of the software from the Hub. The hardware’s gone, but the majority of the software was on the server. All we need is a computer that’s not dead and a hookup.”

Harry looked up from the blue flames he was conjuring in transfigured jars. “That could be a problem with the magic. Anything that runs on electricity tends not to do well near a lot of magic.”

“Hermione might lend us hers,” Ron said. “My wife’s been working on ways to integrate Muggle technology. She’s developed a magic-compatible laptop,” he explained proudly to the others. “Doesn’t even run on electricity!”

“Good idea, Ron.” Harry said. “Go see if she’ll lend it you. Actually,” he got up and grabbed one of the mobiles from the benchtop where they’d been left, and threw it to Ron, “Swing by Grimmauld and make a call from this would you? Grimmauld’s still Unplottable, so it should properly bugger up anybody’s tracking.”

Ron grinned and winked before Disapparating.

~O~

Individually, the blue flame lamps didn’t take much effort to make, but the sheer number of them it took to light even one end of the dank warehouse left Harry feeling drained, and he was sprawled on the sofa, drifting fuzzily towards sleep.

Ron had come back with the laptop, and Harkness was fiddling with it. Alden was conferring with Ron and Cooper. Malfoy had Apparated Jones to Nottingham or somewhere to make a phone call, muttering about bringing confusion to their enemies. Williams was mucking about with a can of spray paint he’d found discarded in a corner.

“Let there be light!” Harkness pronounced, and Harry half opened his eyes. He flinched a little as the harsh fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling flared before humming and flickering wildly. He closed his eyes again and listened to the popping sound of every bulb at their end of the warehouse blowing.

“Tried to warn you, mate,” came Ron’s voice. “Electricity and magic. They really don’t mix.”

Harry drifted for a while, letting the voices wash over him. The cracking sound of Apparation almost roused him, but it would just be Malfoy, and he decided he couldn’t be arsed.

“The Hero, At Rest.” Yep. Malfoy.

“Well,” said Jones, “He has been _very_ busy making lights, and very nice they are, too. And I’m certain the floor wasn’t this clean when we left.”

“Perfect Potter,” Malfoy muttered, “Of course he’d be domesticated, as well.”

“Perfect Potter?” Jones sounded amused.

“We were at school together,” Malfoy replied, “He could do no wrong.”

“And you?” Jones asked.

“Could do nothing but. You’d better get those clothes to your friends, they’ll be wanting them.”

“Where have you been?” Harkness snapped, “I thought you were just making a phone call.”

There was a rustle of plastic bags as Jones moved towards the others. “Draco very kindly assisted me in acquiring some essentials.” Draco? “Coffee, doodah-“ He was interrupted by Cooper’s exclamation of “Thank _God_!” “…hobnobs. And I am assured that these should fit. Gwen. Rhys. And for Sir, Army Surplus special.”

“Oh, you’re kidding me!” Harkness sounded ridiculously excited over Army Surplus. Apparently he _really_ wanted out of the tracksuit bottoms.

There was much rustling of plastic bags and clothes.

“Oooooh, who picked these? Ianto?”

Malfoy coughed awkwardly, “My friend Pansy tells me that women like to be armed with a nice set of undies when going into difficult situations, so I thought…”

“They’re very nice, love, thank you.”

Someone, probably Williams, shouted, “Hey, these are just like mine! Brilliant!”

“Hey, where’s mine?” Harkness asked, the American accent making his voice easy to pick.

Malfoy drawled in response, “Do you expect me to believe you actually wear underwear, Harkness?”

“Ianto, have you been telling him all my secrets?”

“Unnecessary,” Malfoy sniffed. “I am just that good.”

There was some more rustling and shuffling about, and after a few minutes the lovely rich scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted over him. He got up and ambled over to the bench where a coffee machine had been set up. He stuck a mug directly under the drip, and poured himself a cup from the half full pot. “So,” he asked, stretching. “We’ve got coffee and internet. What’s the plan?”

As he reached for the sugar, he noticed that Malfoy and Harkness were both staring at his midriff. He looked down, but couldn’t see any stains on his t-shirt or anything. Weirdos. He could see why Harkness had got all excited about the Army Surplus, though. The old RAF coat was a huge improvement over the purloined blue t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms.

“Jack,” Cooper, now clad in a dark blue top that did nice things for her breasts, was chewing her thumbnail. “Run a check on a Clement MacDonald, see if there’s any change. And those names Lois said. Captain Andrew Staines? What was it, Ellen Hunt? Michael something. They were all assassinated the same time they tried to kill Jack.”

Jones filled the gap, “Andrew Staines, Ellen Hunt, Michael Sanders.” He looked at Harkness, who was typing names into Hermione’s laptop. “Mean anything to you?”

Harkness looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing.”

Cooper was pacing now. “We need to get inside Whitehall.”

“I’ll have a word with Kingsley,” Alden offered. “And see if we’ve got anyone in a useful position inside Whitehall. We need to check in, in any case.”

“That would be marvellous.” Cooper responded. “Have we got the I5 software, Ianto?”

“It’s still on the site, why?”

Cooper had a gleam in her eye that was worryingly reminiscent of George on the trail of a prank. “Download it onto the laptop. Because _these_ are not just contact lenses. They’re _Torchwood_ contact lenses.” Whatever that might mean.

Apparently Jones understood. “But what do we use them for? Who’s going to wear them?”

“Well, there’s only one person still talking to us. Fortunately, she’s pretty bloody resourceful. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Harkness looked for a moment like he would object, but in the end said only, “Remember to keep any phone calls short. Don’t let them track you, or her, down.”

A kiss and a, “Be careful,” from Williams and she was gone.

“Draco and I will go and report to the Minister,” Alden began. At a sharp look from Harkness, he explained, “The Minister for Magic. The Ministry of Magic is entirely independent of Muggle government. We’ll report in and find out whether we have any useful contacts. Potter and Weasley will stay here and assist as much as possible.”

With that Malfoy and Alden Disapparated, leaving Harry and Ron with the Muggles.

~O~

For lack of anything more helpful to do, Harry and Ron were trying to work out how to block any traces on the remaining mobile phone without rendering it completely useless. Harkness and Jones were clacking away furiously at the laptop, and Williams was puttering about with a gas cooker that had mysteriously appeared from somewhere. Harry felt it was probably best not to ask where.

“Shit,” Jones said loudly. Harry and Ron glanced up, but it seemed to be part of a conversation rather than an immediate disaster, so they carried on.

A couple of minutes later, Harkness called, “Rhys, do you want to take the car and go to the shops down by the wharf? We need… some disks for these things. Should take twenty minutes?”

Harry frowned at Ron. Hermione’s laptop shouldn’t need disks. Harry wasn’t even sure what it would do to normal muggle computer disks.

“Thirty minutes,” Jones muttered.

“Thirty,” Harkness corrected.

Williams poked at his pot. “I’ll go later. The beans are almost done.”

“The beans are almost done,” Harkness repeated dolefully.

Jones scowled at the laptop. “Bloody beans.”

“Good God Williams, will you take the hint?”

Harry jumped as Malfoy strolled across from where he must have Apparated at the far end of the warehouse, Alden Apparating in seconds later.

“They’d quite like a post-near-death-experience shag, and you’re babbling about bloody beans. We’re going outside. Yes, you too. Come on. You can bring your beans with you.”

Suddenly they all found themselves herded outside by Malfoy, who threw a spell behind him on the way out, causing the ratty sofa to stretch out to the size of a king size bed.

“Oi!” Williams objected, “That’s our only sofa, that is.”

“Draco-“ Alden began.

“What?” Malfoy was bristling with anger. Something about the situation was getting him all riled up again.

“I just don’t think we should-“

“What?” Malfoy interrupted again. “Give them some bloody privacy?”

“I appreciate that you-“

“Don’t even, Octavius. Just don’t.”

Harry caught Alden’s eye around Malfoy’s angry figure. He shook his head and gestured with his Extendable Ear.

A quick check revealed that Ron had joined Williams in devouring the beans, and Malfoy and Alden’s discussion, although no less heated, had dropped to hisses and murmurs.

He surreptitiously slid the Ear through the whistling gap beneath the door and tucked the hearing end into his ear.

His eyes widened as the ‘yes, there’s and the ‘missed you’s and the ‘touch me’s, tied together by moans and gasps confirmed that Harkness and Jones were very intently doing exactly what Malfoy had thought they would do. Harry could feel his dick twitch in his pants, and clenched his legs together, curling forward over his knees. The last thing he needed was anyone realising his reaction to what he was hearing.

“So, anything interesting?” Malfoy asked from right next to him.

Harry jumped, and felt the tips of his ears burn a searing red. “They’re…” He cleared his throat. “They’re not planning anything.”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with it, you know.” Malfoy still seemed to be fuming from his argument with Alden. “It’s a relationship, like any other. One was hurt, the other’s offering comfort. It shouldn’t be a stretch of understanding, even for a simpleton like you.”

Oh god, Malfoy had the wrong end of the stick and he was going to beat them both to death with it.

“Malfoy, I’m not-“

“You’re sitting there, hunched over like you’re about to puke. There are only two reasons for reacting that strongly to it Potter.” Malfoy was right up in Harry’s face, close enough for Harry to see the tiny silver lines that streaked the darker grey of Malfoy’s irises. “You’re a homophobe. Either that or you’re _gay_.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fucking_ Malfoy.

“Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, can stand up for House Elves and werewolves, but blokes who fuck blokes are just completely beyond the pale. You miserable hypocrite.”

“That’s not it, Malfoy. I jus-“

“So, what? You _are_ gay? Is that what you’re saying? Shall I tell Rita that? Harry Potter Confesses To Faggotry?”

“Malfoy, _please_.” Another quick glance confirmed that Ron was still deep in conversation with Williams, probably about beans, and Alden was tinkering with the wards. “I am asking you, just this once, to not say anything.” Given Malfoy’s record with Harry’s life and the press, it probably wouldn’t do him any good, but still. “Please. Imagine for a second that I _don’t_ like the media attention, then imagine what it might be like to have it spread across the front page of all the papers. I haven’t even managed to get a date with a bloke yet.”

Malfoy just sort of looked at him and blinked a couple of times. The uncharacteristic hesitation was either very good or very bad. Harry wished he could stop himself from holding his breath.

“So you’re in the closet.”

All of Harry’s breath came out in a rush of bitter humour. “Story of my life.” He shook his head at Malfoy’s raised eyebrow. “I just want a chance at doing things normally. And… I don’t really know how. I haven’t even told Ron and Hermione yet. Can you _please_ just leave it?”

“You really are gay. And you’re, what, having a moment over listening to those two shagging.”

Harry concentrated very hard on the toe of his trainer so he wouldn’t have to meet Malfoy’s eyes. “Well, you know. It’s kind of hot.” He offered the Ear to Malfoy.

Malfoy listened a moment, one eyebrow hitching further and further up towards his hairline. After a moment he smirked and handed the Ear back. “All right, Potter. We’ll leave it for now. You probably want to work on it, though.”

“Are they not bloody done yet?” Williams piped up.

“Williams,” Malfoy drawled, looking at his watch, “That is a shocking indictment on your own performance.”

Williams spread his hands and leered. “I’ve had no complaints.”

The door opened and Harkness stuck his dishevelled head out. “It’s safe to come back in now, you prudes.”

~O~

As they all trooped back in, Malfoy grabbed the empty bean tin. He threw it in the air with a flick of his wrist and cast a floating charm on it. The Muggles looked warily at the hovering tin. Apparently satisfied that he had everyone’s attention, he transfigured it into a large board of the type they used in the Auror office.

Meanwhile Ron returned the sofa to its normal size and threw a cleaning charm at it before flopping down onto it in a gangling sprawl.

“Right,” Malfoy pronounced. “As _charming_ as that little interlude was,” he leered at Jones and Harkness, and Harkness smirked right back, “we really do need to work out what in Merlin’s name is going on here.” A cloud with the word _‘Children’_ in it appeared at the top of the board. A little box appeared beneath it with the words _’Mind control’_.

“Well,” said Jones, from the bench where he was preparing the next in their apparently endless supply of pots of coffee, “There is the whole assassination issue.”

Another cloud appeared on the board. _’Assassination’_.

“What do we know about the assassins?” Harry asked.

“An excellent point, Potter.” Malfoy remarked as the word _’Assassins’_ appeared in a box.

“Military.” Alden contributed from his viewpoint near the wall. “Disciplined, well organised, and well resourced.”

“UNIT,” Harkness called from his deceptive slouch against the bench. “Unified Intelligence Task Force. They fight aliens.”

“And you, apparently.”

“These are exceptional circumstances. I’m usually very well-liked.”

“So what’s exceptional about the circumstances?” Ron asked. Harry was a bit relieved to know that he hadn’t actually been napping on the sofa. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference between intense concentration and a light doze with Ron.

“If we knew that-“ Harkness began.

“So _think_.” Alden insisted. “Something’s changed. This UNIT outfit used to be your colleagues. Then the children started behaving strangely, and suddenly they want you dead.”

“And the others.” Jones was apparently engrossed in something on Hermione’s laptop, having laid out mugs for the coffee, but still following the conversation. He was clearly an excellent multi-tasker. That probably explained some of the things Harkness had been babbling- Harry dragged his mind back to the task at hand.

“Yes, Ms Cooper had a list of names earlier. Who were they?”

“The others on the execution order,” Jones replied, fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard. “Colonel Michael Sanders, retired; Ellen Hunt; Captain Andrew Staines. The only problem is that we have no idea who they are.”

Another cloud appeared on the board, this one labelled _’Targets’_. The names appeared beneath in boxes. “Perhaps we should find out. What can you find out about them on your,” Malfoy vaguely waved the hand that wasn’t holding his wand, “machine?”

Jones raised an eyebrow. “More or less anything, with the right software. I’m running checks on them now.”

“Clem MacDonald.” Jack stated.

“Sorry?”

“Clem MacDonald. That was the other name Gwen gave. The man at the hospital. We should check him out, too.”

Jones clattered at the laptop for another moment. “Right. Meanwhile, coffee?”

“Yes, please!” Harry and Harkness both called immediately. Harkness grinned at him wickedly, “Visitors come first!” Harry flushed. Again. It was definitely a day for it.

“Jack.” Jones’ tone was admonishing. He turned to Harry and gestured with the coffee pot. “How do you take it?”

Harry could feel the flush creep up his ears as he replied over both Harkness and Malfoy’s sniggers, “Black with two sugars, please.”

The serene way Jones ignored them completely as he poured coffee into mugs and stirred sugar into two of them seemed to suggest that the subtext of the question might not have been accidental.

As Jones handed the mugs out there was a beep from the laptop, then another. He moved back to it. “Hits for Captain Staines and Ellen Hunt are back.” He scanned the screen, typing commands, his brows pulling into a frown. “Absolutely normal military careers. Nothing out of the ordinary about them at all.” There was another beep. “Colonel Sanders… the same.”

“Except that we _know_ there’s something unusual about them,” Ron chipped in. “We just need to work out what it is. Are you able to get more detail? Start with Ellen Hunt. Why hasn’t she got a rank, when she’s got a military history, same as the other two?”

“She left in 1965. Seven years of service. Then she left to… work in an office. Never married, no children.”

“What made her leave? Any indication?” Alden asked.

Jones frowned again. “It doesn’t say. There’s nothing to indicate why. Her last posting was pretty standard. And the one before that- Has no record. Of course, it was over forty years ago. A lot of the records have been lost.”

“So, if they have anything in common through the military, it was probably before then. What about the others?”

“Staines was assigned to Rhodesia at the time Ellen Hunt left. Four week leave of absence before that; a short assignment in Scotland prior to that, no details available; a two year tour of duty in the Middle East…”

“And Sanders?”

“He was initially part of the Intrusion Countermeasures Group, then went on to join UNIT. There’s something about… Yetis?” He typed a bit and peered at the screen. “Definitely Yetis.” He shook his head. “It’s always _something_ with this job. Anyway, that was about the time Ellen Hunt left. Before that was the Shoreditch Incident, bloody Daleks again. No, wait. There’s a couple of years in between. Ridiculously vague, considering the amount of detail either side. Working with someone called Dekker, trip to Dundee-“

“That’s in Scotland,” Harry interjected. There was something there, if he could just connect it…

“Well spotted, Potter. Gold star for you.” Harry glared. If he lost this thought because Malfoy couldn’t keep his gob shut…

Thankfully Ron was following. “No, he’s right. Staines went to Scotland. Sanders went to Scotland. When?”

“Mmmnnmm… Sanders was there February 1965. Staines….” The laptop beeped once more. “Oh, shut up, you. Come on, Staines. Talk to me, there’s a good- Aha! February 1965.”

“And Hunt left in 1965, following a posting for which there is no record.”

Jones tapped a couple of keys. “But which we know was in February of that year.”

“What else came in?” Harkness asked. He had come to stand behind Jones, resting one hand on his shoulder, although Harry noticed that he would still be able to see all four Aurors from where he was standing.

“Hmm? Oh, Mr MacDonald, aka Timothy White. Bit of a nowhere man. I’ll just run some cross-checks. We never did get a chance to play with that new face recognition software. Might as well run him through that. Meanwhile, Clement MacDonald last appears on record in… ah. February of 1965. In Scotland. He was in an orphanage in Arbroath, which was closing down. 12 kids got on a bus to be moved to a new home, but never reached- Jack?”

Harkness had gone pale, and the hand on Jones’ shoulder was clenching. He was staring blindly at the screen. Without a word he spun around, grabbing his coat and racing toward the door.

“Jack, where are you going?” Jones demanded.

Harkness didn’t even look back.

“Harkness!” Alden shouted as other man kept running. “Get back here and explain yourself!”

Harkness was almost out the door, with all the speed of a guilty conscience.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

~O~

“Fuck’s _sake_ , Malfoy.” Harry had always thought that Malfoy had cheated his way through the Psych tests necessary to become an Auror, but now he was convinced. “We’re trying to work with these people!”

“Oh, get over it, Potter. I didn’t even stun him, it was just a Petrificus.” Malfoy’s sneer was firmly in place, as though _Harry_ were the unreasonable one.

Harry looked over to where Alden was speaking sternly to Harkness, and Ron reassuringly to Jones and Williams. “That doesn’t make it any less of a cock up. They were a bit nervous of us to start with, and now Jones is fiddling with his guns and Williams is pretending to brew coffee when there’s already a full pot. Attacking their leader is not exactly a good way to build a working relationship!”

“Seriously, Potter, get off your fucking high horse. We are offering to help _them_. When forming an alliance, it’s the _epitome_ of poor etiquette to just bugger off in the middle. Which is why it’s Harkness getting a strip torn off him by Alden, and not me. You want to know why the Welsh are twitchy? Because they’re not any happier about their leader doing a runner than we are. We’re not in school anymore, Potter. Take your Gryffindor-tinted spectacles off. You’re as blind with them as you would be without.”

Alden stepped away from a chastened Harkness. “Alright lads, break time’s over. Captain Harkness has some things he needs to tell us.”

Harkness sat on the edge of his seat, head down and staring at his clasped hands as they all grabbed seats and gathered around. He picked at a hangnail as he began. “I’ve been alive for along time, and I’ve…” He looked directly up at Jones, as though Jones were the only one he was speaking to, “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. Some of them were…” He took a deep breath. “Some of them were really bad. One of the worst was in 1965. I never really knew the details. I was given a job to do, and I did it.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself glancing at Malfoy who was staring intently at Harkness, thin-lipped, but otherwise expressionless.

Harkness leaned back in the chair, and glanced around at all of them before concentrating on picking a thread loose from the arm of his chair. “There were aliens.” A tiny, bitter smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “There are always aliens. We never knew the name of these ones. They communicated on the 456 frequency, so that’s what we called them, the 456. They’d been before in 1918. You’ve heard of the Spanish ‘Flu pandemic? Somewhere between 50 to 100 _million_ people died. And that was after 15 million had died in the War. Medical experts still can’t tell exactly what it was.” He looked up sharply. “Know why? Because it was like nothing on Earth. The 456 had come. They’d made demands, they’d been told to do their worst, and they _devastated_ us.”

His eyes dropped back to the tiny hole he’d picked in the chair arm. “When they came back in 1965, twelve children didn’t seem like such a terrible price. Not when you put it on the scales against 25 million people. There was an orphanage in Scotland that was closing down. Twelve kids, twelve orphans, were to be taken to a new home somewhere else. It was perfect. So we loaded them onto a bus in the middle of the night and took them to the coordinates we’d been given by the 456. A ship came. There was this blindingly bright light, and the kids walked into it.” The bitter half-smile made another appearance. “Went into the light. And then the ship left, and we went on with our lives. I never knew their names. Not the kids, not the other soldiers.”

Silence hung heavy in the drafty warehouse.

It was Jones who broke it. “But Clement MacDonald got away?”

This time when Harkness looked at Jones, it was a sidelong glance, little more than peeking through his lashes. “Apparently. As far as I knew, he got on that ship the same as the others. Don’t think I saved him. I was busy thinking about the 25 million other people who weren’t going to die of the plague.”

“And now he’s in gaol in… Camden, I think you said?” Malfoy mused, picking invisible lint off his pristine robes.

Jones looked at Malfoy, who looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll call Gwen,” said Jones, grabbing one of the mobiles. “If someone could take me… somewhere?”

“I’ll go,” Harry volunteered. “Anywhere in particular?”

“I don’t think-“

“Oooh, Harry! You could swing by that Thai place in Bath!” Ron exclaimed, eyes lit up with the prospect of a good Goong Pao.

He really should have seen it coming. “Right. Who wants wha- Actually, I’ll just get a bunch of stuff. Yes, Ron,” he said before his mate could start listing his favourites, “Tom Yum Gai, Goong Pao, and sticky rice for all. I’m on it.”

Ron clasped his hands to his chest and attempted to flutter his eyelashes. “My hero!” he squeaked.

Harry looked at Jones. “Can we leave now, please? Once he starts, he’s impossible.”

Harkness, apparently recovering some of his pep, called, “Don’t do anyone I wouldn’t do!”

~O~

Harry had Apparated them to the back of a disused office building two minutes walk from the restaurant. Harry placed their order and Jones, call-me-Ianto, chipped in with a few special requests. The bald Thai man who had taken their order told them it would take about 40 minutes, so they sat on the sofa in the restaurant lobby, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness of their silence. They didn’t want to place the call until they were about to leave, so that if a trace was successful they would be gone in minutes anyway.

Eventually Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “So, Harkness.”

“Yes, we’re together,” Jones-Call-Me-Ianto blurted, apparently speaking to the plant beside the window opposite.

Harry blinked. “Um, right. I sort of figured after, you know. Earlier.” He tried desperately not to think about his more… _detailed_ knowledge of the encounter.

A blotchy red wave swept up Call-Me-Ianto’s neck and over his face. “Ah. Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. Maybe Harry should have just kept his mouth shut. The silence hadn’t been _that_ bad.

“I just… It’s a bit new, you see. This… actual _couple_ thing,” Call-Me-Ianto confided to the plant.

“Sure,” Harry replied helplessly.

“I’d never even really considered being with a man before and then,” Ianto waved his hand about, “There was Jack.” He continued to stare at the plant morosely.

This was not _actually_ the conversation Harry had been trying to have. He thought about not saying anything after all, because it was just too horrifically awkward, but he really needed to know.

“I, um, I was wondering whether there are any sort of… strange objects that he’s careful to keep around.”

Ianto jerked his head around to look at Harry with a surprised laugh. “He lived in the Hub for about a hundred years. He was constantly surrounded by strange objects.”

“Right, but anything particular?”

"He kept a severed hand in a jar for a while, is that the sort of thing you mean?”

Harry blinked slowly while his mind tried to work out what should come out of his mouth. Fortunately Jones filled the gap.

“He didn’t sever it himself, of course. And he lost it a year or so back. Why does it matter?”

“People who want to live forever have been a problem for us before. They have an unfortunate tendency to be evil. It’s a concern.”

“If it helps, I’m reasonably certain it wasn’t his idea.” Ianto looked at his watch. “God, I hate this. We’re supposed to be saving the world, but we have to wait for the Goong Pao to cook.”

“Yeah, but I know me and Ron generally think better on a full stomach. And Harkness could probably do with a decent feed after the big confession. Things tend to look better on the other side of a decent meal.” Harry stood suddenly, visibly startling Ianto. “You know what we need? New phones. We still couldn’t use them in the warehouse because of the magic, but at least they wouldn’t be traceable.”

Jones stood as well, trailing Harry down the stairs to the street. “The thing is, with our accounts frozen, things are a bit tight for buying a bunch of new phones.”

Harry paused at the door. It was a left here, then right, then on a bit and right again. “Luckily, the goblins have joined the 21st century, and I have a card I can use in muggle shops. I’ll just put them on expenses or bill the Prime Minister or something.

“I’m sorry. I did you say something about… goblins?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. The wizarding banking system is run by goblins. It’s weird, but pretty cool.”

In the middle of a weekday afternoon the main shopping area of Bath wasn’t too crowded and, as Harry had thought, there were a couple of phone shops on this street.

“All right, Jones. Let’s get some phones,” Harry said, before realising it rhymed. Thank god Malfoy wasn’t here, or the mockery would never end.

“Retail outlet technology,” Ianto murmured, “How quaint.”

Half an hour later they were back behind the disused office block, laden with a new laptop, four of the most gadgety phones Ianto could find, the same number of pay as you go chips, and a seriously ridiculous quantity of food, including a fried ice cream ‘Dragon ball’ for Malfoy that Harry hadn’t been able to resist. Unfortunately, Harry had had to choose between Heating charms and Shrinking charms. Something about the two charms meant that casting both on food left it shrivelled and dry when unshrunk.

“I don’t know, you were a policewoman.” Ianto was leaning against the wall, staring at the sky as he spoke to Cooper. “Just… He’s owed a rescue, Gwen. Get him out of there.” His mouth curled up slightly on one side at Cooper’s response. “I’d have said a nice steak, but we have a truly decadent quantity of Thai food. See you soon.”

With all the bags, Harry had to just get an arm around Ianto in order to Apparate him side-along. It was almost pleasantly domestic.

They arrived back at the warehouse just in time to hear Malfoy say to Harkness, “So, with the not-dying. Any ambition to rule the universe for all eternity? No? Good. Have a biscuit.”

~O~

They were sitting amidst the wreckage of their feast, Malfoy poking perplexedly at his dessert, when the laptop began beeping frantically. Harkness practically vaulted over the back of the sofa to get to it. “It’s the kids. They’re pointing.”

“What are they saying?” Ron asked.

“Nothing. They’re not saying anything at all. They’re just pointing.”

Ianto joined Harkness at the bench, gently nudging him out of the way with his hip in a gesture he probably didn’t even realise spoke silently of intimacy. “All the children in America are pointing east, and all the children in Europe are pointing west.”

They had all gathered behind Harkness and Ianto, looking over their shoulders at the screen.

“It’s us,” said Williams. “They’re pointing at us.”

Ianto typed quickly, fingers dancing across the keyboard. “And children in London are pointing towards the centre. They’re pointing at Thames House. Come on!” He dashed towards the unlit end of the warehouse, where a small door opened onto stairs leading to the roof.

It wasn’t hard to work out which direction Thames House was. The billowing column of fire made it pretty easy to spot. The pillar of flame crackled and roared for about a minute before simply disappearing, the low clouds of the overcast sky closing up around the hole it had burned until it looked as though nothing had changed. The sudden silence was unsettling.

Whatever was doing all this, it had arrived.

They trooped slowly back down to the living area.

“It’s all kicking off now,” Ianto observed.

“And we still have no idea what to do about it,” Malfoy added sourly.

They all stared at the laptop as the BBC reported various military bigwigs rushing to 10 Downing Street.

“We need to talk to Frobisher,” Harkness announced.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s probably not taking calls at the moment. I imagine he’s a bit busy.”

Harkness’ face turned cold, his eyes steely, and suddenly Harry could see the man who would be able to turn twelve children over to aliens for the greater good. “I know someone whose call he’ll take.”

He stalked towards the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

“Jack!”

“Harkness.”

Ianto’s tone was exasperated, Alden’s was a warning.

This time Harkness stopped and turned to face them. “Fine. Who wants to go visiting with Uncle Jack?”

“Potter, Weasley, you accompany Captain Harkness. Malfoy and I will wait here with Jones and Williams. Make sure you call in if you aren’t able to return within two hours.” Alden hadn’t been sure about the mobiles Harry and Ianto had bought, but apparently he’d decided he was a fan.

“The car’s a two-seater.” Harkness pointed out. “There is no way three of us are fitting into a Porsche Boxter.”

Alden scowled. “Fine. Weasley, stay here. Potter, stick with Harkness. Find out what you can.”

“Have a nice time!” Ron called.

“We’ll do what we can. Come on, Auror Potter.” Harkness was doing his conman grin again. “Have I ever mentioned how much I like a man in uniform?”

Harry rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long afternoon.

The two of them got into the car. He had to admit, it was a sexy piece of machinery. “Do I want to know where you got this?” He asked.

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” Which pretty much answered the question.

Harry shrugged. “Needs must, sometimes. Gringotts were pretty pissed when we broke into the bank, retrieved an artefact from someone’s vault and escaped on a stolen dragon. It took years to smooth that one over. I’m reasonably certain one of the reasons they developed the Gringotts card was so I wouldn’t actually need to go in to get muggle money changed.”

Harkness casually flung the car around a sharp bend. “You broke into a bank and stole a dragon.”

“I had an adventurous youth.”

“I think I like your style, Harry Potter.”

The industrial area had given way to urban residential, and now they were entering the leafy suburbs. Harkness pulled up outside a house that was nice, but not pretentious, with a well kept garden.

“Are you going to tell me who we’re visiting?” Harry asked.

“Well, _visiting_ is maybe not the most accurate description,” Harkness replied.

Harry sighed. “Do you want to explain to me exactly what we’re doing here before we go in?”

Harkness gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “Basically, the plan is to break into Frobisher’s house and steal his wife’s mobile, then threaten his family in order to make him get us into Thames House.”

“Erm, when you say _threaten_ …”

“As long as Frobisher agrees, they don’t even need to know we’re here. Look, with a bit of luck, Frobisher will play ball and it won’t even be an issue. I’ll even come out here to make the call. He agrees, we ditch the phone and hit the road. He doesn’t, we discuss what to do before going back in.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t comfortable with this, but if it looked like Harkness was going to pull anything, Harry could always stop him and Obliviate Frobisher’s family, if need be.

“All right,” he agreed, and they got out of the car. Harkness started to walk across the road, but Harry stopped him. If they were doing this, they were doing it with Disillusionment charms. The less likely the Frobishers were to see them, the less likely he would have to take extreme action.

Harkness had clearly done this before. He was in the house and back out with Mrs Frobisher’s mobile in under ten minutes. The call didn’t take even that long. Harkness’ opening was strong, but it seemed that Frobisher was holding a trump card. A moment after threatening to expose the entire affair, Harkness froze. “What?”

There was a pause as Frobisher spoke. Harkness didn’t move, but the energy about him changed from nervous to dangerous. “Yeah, well how about I go back into that house and get your wife. And your children.” Oh shit. This was about to get ugly.

Frobisher’s response was apparently final. All the wind went out of Harkness’ sails. He lowered the phone from his ear and stared off into the distance, before saying quietly, “Get in the car.”

~O~

Harry gave Harkness half an hour to cool down, then asked him to pull over. Harkness startled, as though he had forgotten Harry was there. Given the speed at which he was flinging the little car around the city streets, that level of distraction was more than a little alarming.

“Is there a problem?” Harkness asked. “I’d like to get back to the warehouse.”

Harry hated having to do the I’m-an-Auror-and-I’m-in-charge bit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it when necessary. “Come on, Harkness. We went there intending to wangle access to the alien, which clearly didn’t happen. It would be polite to explain the change of plan.”

Harkness’ jaw clenched. “I would prefer not to-“

“No.” Harry interrupted. “Sorry, Harkness. I’m not trying to pry, but something is going on that has already had an impact on this case, and I can’t let you keep it a secret.”

The look Harkness gave him was full of anger and resentment. It was pretty good, but he’d had better from Malfoy when they were fifteen. He stared back steadily.

Harkness closed his eyes and slumped back in the seat. “I have a daughter. And a grandson. Frobisher has them, and ‘absolutely swears’ they won’t be harmed, as long as I keep quiet. She was always afraid something like this would happen. She made me stay away to prevent it, but I went to see her a couple of days ago, and now it’s happened and Steven’s in danger.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, then spoke into them. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been the best father. I can’t fail her now, not when she and Steven are in danger because of me.”

Harry was thinking fast. Hostages complicated the situation hugely. “OK. OK. We’re going to go back and brainstorm this. See what everyone-“

“No!” Harry leaned back instinctively from Harkness’ sudden vehemence. “No, they don’t know about Alice and Steven. They don’t know.”

Harry blinked. “Ianto doesn’t know that you have a daughter and grandson.”

Harkness tipped his chin up, and peered down his nose at Harry. “There’s a lot of things Ianto Jones doesn’t know about me.”

The gesture was so familiar, but Harry couldn’t think why. Then he realised. Malfoy did almost the exact same thing when he was being defensive. It was startling to realise he knew something so intimate about Malfoy.

“How old are you, anyway?”

Harkness looked taken aback by the sudden change of subject. Good old Auror training. “I’m not actually sure anymore. Does the two thousand years I spent buried under Cardiff count? How about the year that never happened? It can be kind of difficult keeping track of a non-linear timeline.”

“Listen, most have us have done things we’re not proud of in our lifetimes.” Twelve years later, Harry still had nightmares about Malfoy bleeding to death on the flooded floor of Myrtle’s bathroom. “When you’ve got a lot of lifetimes, you’ve got a lot of room for doing things you’re not proud of. But you’ve also got time to make amends for them. The thing with the kids in 1965, your daughter and grandson getting taken hostage, we can’t undo those things. But we can fix what’s broken now. But only if we _know_ what’s broken. You’ve got to stop keeping secrets.”

Harkness was shaking his head. “I can’t tell them. They have _no idea_ some of the things I’ve done, and I can’t ever tell them.”

Harry took a deep breath. He was clearly going to have to Talk About Feelings. “Those two are your friends. I don’t think at this point that there’s anything you could tell them that would drive them away. They might be pissed off or upset about some stuff, but I don’t think you’re going to lose them that way.”

Harkness looked him in the eye. Not a challenge this time, but an acknowledgment. He nodded, then started the car.

~O~

It turned out that Clement MacDonald was more than a little unbalanced. He and Harkness had had a bizarre standoff in which the little man had hid timidly behind Cooper, peeping out from time to time to throw accusations. In fairness, the accusations had been pretty reasonable and Harkness had accepted all of them. Then he had taken a step forward and it had all gone to hell.

“I _am_ dangerous, isn’t it! You’re all scared of me, I can smell it!” he had just grabbed Cooper’s gun and killed Harkness and was now waving it at Harry, wild-eyed. Harry’s wand was in his hand but bloody Cooper kept getting in the way, trying to calm him. “I killed a man!”

“Of course you are.” Malfoy stepped toward the man, who turned the gun on him. For a moment Harry stopped breathing.

“You’re clearly terrified and feeling threatened, and you have a weapon you’re not trained to use. Of course you’re dangerous.” Having got his attention, Malfoy stopped moving and just looked the man in the eye. Harry couldn’t get a Stunner off, because Cooper was still bloody hovering in his line of fire.

“We’re all dangerous when we’re threatened. Gwen, here, is a lovely lady but I wouldn’t like to threaten her or Rhys.”

“She’s on _his_ side,” the little man cried, jerking the gun at Harkness. “And he’s on _their_ side!” He was almost sobbing now.

Malfoy kept using the gentle, level tone that Harry had never heard from him before. “She is on his side, yes. But he’s not on their side. No.” He interrupted as Clem started to deny it. “I know what happened back then. He did the wrong thing.”

Clem looked at Malfoy hesitantly, like he desperately wanted to believe him. The gun was wavering now, mostly forgotten.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Malfoy said. “He shouldn’t have given you and your friends to the aliens. He did it because he was trying to save a lot of people, but he still shouldn’t have done it.”

Clem crossed his arms over himself protectively and the gun, loosely held, was almost pointed at his own head. Cooper wrapped an arm around his shoulder and finally took the damn thing off him. “They’re coming back, you know,” he confided. He was letting Cooper cuddle him, but his eyes were glued to Malfoy.

“We know,” Malfoy replied. “That’s what we’re all here for. To try and stop them.” Clem looked at Harkness dubiously. “Yes, even him. But there’s something you need to know about him. In a minute, he’s going to wake up.”

“But I killed him, isn’t it, isn’t it!” Clem shouted, getting agitated again.

“Yes, you did,” Malfoy assured him. “You most definitely did. The thing is, you see, that he can’t actually die. He dies, but he wakes up again. And any minute now-”

Right on cue, Harkness jerked up into a sitting position, gasping as though he’d run a marathon to get back, gulping air back into his lungs. His arms immediately, if awkwardly, went around Ianto as though to assure himself that he was there.

Clem cried out, and pushed Cooper around so she stood between Harkness and himself. Malfoy went over to them, making sure that Clem could see him the whole time. “It’s quite alarming, I know. I know it is. There are a lot of very strange things happening, and it’s not just the aliens. And we plan on using every advantage we’ve got against them.”

~O~

There were few things Harry hated more than sitting around waiting. Clem sat right next to Cooper. Ron, Malfoy and Alden were hovering over her shoulders, intently watching what Frobisher was up to through the eyes of The Temp. Harry couldn’t see what was so interesting. It was no different from the Ministry when something was going down – tight-lipped people sitting around a desk yapping instead of _doing_ something.

Williams was dozing on the sofa; Harkness was brooding on the stairs; Ianto was hovering, and nobody was _doing anything_. Harry was programming numbers into the new phones for lack of anything more useful to do.

“Gold Command meeting’s about to start!” Ianto called, and everyone rushed to crowd around the laptop. Hermione would be pleased at how well it was holding up. Harry briefly wondered if they’d be able to keep the software for her.

“They’ll sell us out,” Clem said. “Just like they did last time.”

Cooper patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, but behind him Malfoy was nodding.

The Muggle Prime Minister announced that they were going to make an offer, and Harry felt his stomach churn. A brown-haired lady who looked a bit like Mrs Weasley asked about the military option instead. Harry thought he might like her.

When they unhesitatingly agreed to round up sixty orphans who’d been seeking asylum in the UK, Harry went back to the phones. He couldn’t watch this.

He was doing quite well at steadfastly ignoring the group around the laptop until Clem started chanting, “Three two five zero zero zero,” over and over. Everyone looked at each other, trying to work out the significance of the number. “Three two five zero zero zero,” Clem continued, his eyes Imperio-blank.

“Coordinates?” Williams suggested. “A grid reference, maybe?”

Cooper was searching frantically through the database, but it was the politicians who cracked it first. “It’s confirmed,” the tinny voice of the lip-reading software said, “Three hundred and twenty-five thousand is ten percent of the childre- the, ah, units in this country. Every country is saying a different number which, in each case, amounts to ten percent.”

And that was that. Westminster’s best and brightest sat down and began squabbling over whose children would be offered up as sacrifices. They were all very clear that it shouldn’t be theirs.

The brown-haired lady was growling about being told to be ‘civil’. “Oh yes,” came the tinny voice, “Let’s discuss the loss of millions of innocent children, and let’s be civilised about it.”

“I think we have enough”, Alden said. “Potter, we need to let Kingsley know. We need to mobilise St Mungo’s to prepare for this virus, and we need Aurors in place as the drivers of those buses. We’ll work on getting details of Frobisher’s rendezvous points.”

Thank fuck for that. He’d been mentally applauding the brown-haired lady, but as they listened, she began outlining a plan to clear out the bottom ten percent of schools on the school league table, since the kids in them would all be criminals or benefit bludgers anyway. Much more of this and he wouldn’t be able to hold on to his lunch.

“Good luck,” he said to Ron, then nodded at Malfoy and Alden. There was a good likelihood that Team Forkli- Torchwood’s plan would kick off while he was gone. He still didn’t like the part of the plan where Harkness and Ianto would go to Thames House on their own, for all that he could see the sense in keeping wizards away from the camera that was feeding to Downing Street. He didn’t know what Harkness was like normally but right now he seemed, frankly, a bit unstable.

~O~

“I can’t just mobilise the whole of St Mungo’s for an unspecified virus, Harry. They have no idea what it is, what are they supposed to do?”

Kingsley had agreed swiftly to identifying the schools that would be picked and making sure that there were Aurors on site to prevent the pupils from being handed over, but he seemed reluctant to involve the hospital.

“They can _be ready_ , Kingsley! They can be warned that there _is_ an epidemic on the way, and they can be on the lookout for it instead of being caught completely unawares!”

Kingsley leaned wearily back in his chair. “Harry, you know we can’t get involved in Muggle affairs. The Statute of Secrecy-“

“Bollocks to the Statute of Secrecy! This isn’t a Muggle affair, Kingsley. There are Muggle-born wizard children out there in danger of being handed over to aliens. And when we stop that from happening, they are going to send a disease that will probably not distinguish between Muggle and wizard. You cannot be telling me that you expect us to either wait for it to get us, or stand by with a cure and watch millions of people die. Neither of those options are acceptable.”

“Harry-“

“And before you ask me to be reasonable, I’d like to remind you who you’re talking to, here.”

Kingsley rubbed both hands over his bald head. “All right, Harry. I’ll talk to them. They’re going to think I’ve gone insane, though.”

Harry relaxed back into his chair and smiled a little. “Welcome to my world. Doesn’t mean we’re wrong, though.”

“No,” Kingsley smiled wryly, “I suppose it doesn’t, at that. Are you heading straight back?”

“Yeah. There’s a plan, and it kind of makes sense, but I’ve got a really bad feeling about it.” Harry got to his feet. He’d done everything he could do here, and he was itching to get back.

Kingsley rose to see him out. “For Merlin’s sake, don’t go getting yourself killed out there. I really don’t want to have to deal with the hero of the wizarding world being killed by aliens. I can’t even imagine what the Prophet would do with that.”

~O~

Harry Apparated to the roof of their warehouse and pulled on his invisibility cloak. If the warehouse was crawling with heavily armed soldiers he didn’t fancy startling them.

He crept down the stairs, wanting to assess the situation before announcing his presence. There were all sorts of ways this part of the plan could have gone wrong.

As planned, there was no sign of Ron and Williams. They’d have taken the new laptop with a copy of the recordings from The Temp and gone into hiding.

Cooper, Clem and _bloody_ Malfoy who was supposed to be Disillusioned, dammit, were once more crowded around Hermione’s laptop, this time joined by the Lady in Black. Alden was nowhere to be seen which meant that he, at least, was still watching in the background.

The laptop must have been getting a direct feed from the camera now, the voices coming from the speakers were clearly identifiable.

“Then the fight begins.” The deep and slightly electronic voice must be the alien.

There was an awkward silence following the alien’s statement. “We’re waiting for your reply,” Harkness prompted.

“Action has been taken.”

Suddenly the laptop speakers erupted with the sound of blaring alarms.

“What have you _done_?” Harkness demanded.

Harry wasn’t sure how something as toneless as an electronic voice could convey smugness, but this one did. “You wanted a demonstration of war. The virus has been released. It will kill everyone in the building.” _Shit_.

“Can they override it?” Gwen appealed.

The Lady in Black’s eyes were glued to the screen. “I don’t know.”

Oh, fuck it. Harry crept back up the stairs, folded his cloak up so that he could jam it into the waistband of his jeans and ran back down the stairs with his hands up.

Every gun in the room pointed at him.

“Where did you come from?” The Lady in Black demanded.

“The roof,” he replied. “What’s going on?”

Her eyes cut to one of the soldiers. “We checked the roof, ma’am,” he replied.

“How did you get up there?” she rapped out.

“Magic,” he said airily. “What’s going _on_?

It was Malfoy who replied, his voice flat and expressionless. “The alien has locked down Thames House and released the virus. It seems fairly confident there won’t be any survivors.”

“OK,” He stared at Malfoy until he met Harry’s eyes. “So what do we do about it?”

The laptop emitted an awful screech. Cooper was trying to make it stop when Clem began to whimper.

Harry spun around. Clem was staggering, clutching desperately at his ears.

“Turn it off.” Cooper dashed over to him. “Turn it off!”

Harry hit the mute button, and the sound ceased, but whatever was happening to Clem continued. Cooper tried to soothe him, but his cries of pain escalated.

Malfoy ran over to them, and took Clem’s face in his hands. “Clem!” he said firmly. “Look at me. I need you to look at me.” Clem’s eyes met Malfoy’s and their gazes locked. Malfoy flinched, but kept his eyes on Clem’s.

It took a second for Harry to realise that Malfoy was trying to protect Clem’s mind with Occlumency shields. Was he nuts? Harry was well aware that it was difficult enough to protect one’s own mind from assault, let alone someone else’s as well.

At first Clem was quieter, but then he began wailing as blood began trickling from his ears and nose. Malfoy’s jaw was clenched and he was whimpering.

“Malfoy! Malfoy, stop!” Harry grabbed Malfoy’s shoulder and shook it.

“What’s he doing?!” Cooper demanded.

“Trying to protect his mind, but it’s not working. Malfoy, let go!”

Cooper wrapped an arm around Clem’s shoulders and pulled him back towards the plush seat Ron had transfigured the day before. Malfoy was shouting senselessly now. Harry wrapped one arm around Malfoy’s waist and bodily pulled him away from Clem, using his other arm to break Malfoy’s hold on Clem’s face.

With the connection broken Malfoy collapsed in a sobbing heap, dragging Harry to the floor with him. There was a trickle of blood running from his nose.

Suddenly Clem fell silent.

Everyone looked at Cooper. She stroked Clem’s hair gently, then said quietly, “He’s dead. What about Thames House?”

The Lady in Black looked at her with pity. “They can’t get out,” she said simply.

“Bubblehead Charms,” Harry said suddenly.

Everyone’s eyes, not to mention the guns, were trained back on him. “You with me, Malfoy?” he asked the shaking man in his arms. Malfoy nodded slightly. “Come on, up! Up!”

Harry helped Malfoy to his feet. Malfoy leaned against him slightly and pulled a handkerchief from his robes to wipe the blood from his upper lip. His breathing was returning to something near normal.

Harry pulled his wand from its holster, much to the consternation of the soldiers. Ignoring them, he cast his Patronus. “Kingsley, the virus has been released in Thames House, the MI5 building. Get Healers in there. They’ll need Bubblehead Charms, the virus is airborne. _Hurry_.”

He cast a Bubblehead Charm on Malfoy and another on himself, then turned to look at the image of the room on the laptop screen, where Harkness and Ianto were shooting futilely at the alien’s tank. The Obliviators were going to have their work cut out for them. He took a deep breath and Apparated himself and Malfoy into the centre of the storm.

~O~

The room was dark except for the disorienting flash of red lights and the blue glow from the alien’s tank. Malfoy, who’d been starting to get his balance back, lurched against Harry.

Harkness was clutching desperately at Ianto, who was already looking woozy. “It’s too late,” Ianto was saying, “I breathed the air.”

“Malfoy?” Malfoy had righted himself and was glaring at the tank, while Harry rummaged through his field kit for the right potion.

Harkness finally noticed their arrival. “You have to get him out of here!”

“There’s no time,” Harry said. “Malfoy, the thingmy breathing potion. You take two of these and mix them together, but which two?” Harry was perfectly competent with the basic application of the field kit potions, but he was lost when it came to the more advanced stuff.

Malfoy just blinked at him for a moment but then pulled himself together. “These two,” he said snatching them from Harry’s hand and staggering slightly towards Ianto. “You need to drink these,” he said.

“I’m going to try and help the others,” Harry said, making swiftly for the door. “Get Charms on them and come down when you can.”

The upper floors were deserted, but he could hear screams and cries and the trampling feet of a panicked crowd. It sounded a lot like what he remembered of the World Cup when he was fourteen.

The first person he saw was already dead at the bottom of the stairs on the 10th floor, neck lolling at a sickening angle. Her jacket was torn and her skirt was rucked up indecently around her hips where her legs had sprawled when she had fallen.

He jumped over her from the second to last stair and kept running. The screaming was louder now. He quickly cast the Bubblehead Charm at a pair of injured stragglers as he passed them. Thank fuck it was a basic charm that he could rattle off without slowing.

He ran down another flight of stairs. There were beginning to be more people, many of whom seemed to be injured to some degree. He cast as many Charms as he could without stopping. Where the fuck were St Mungo’s? People around him were starting to move more weakly as the virus progressed through their systems. What the hell was it that it could kill so quickly? It couldn’t have been released more than ten or fifteen minutes ago.

Bubbles started appearing that he hadn’t cast. Looking around he saw a flash of blond hair moving through a different part of the hall. Malfoy had caught him up. They pressed through the crowds, barely stopping for breath as they cast over and over.

The ground floor foyer was packed with people heaving towards the still-locked doors. There were people trying desperately to get the doors open with fire axes, but the tools just bounced off the glass, almost bouncing back into the people standing immediately behind. But everyone was fading fast. The screams were dying down into weeping. Eventually even that stopped.

~O~

The Healers, when they arrived, looked almost like aliens themselves, or perhaps medieval plague doctors. They moved through the building, separating the living from the dead, the lime green robes and helmet-like bubbles strangely exotic among the creamy marble of the building and the greys and browns of the suits of the office workers.

“Hey, Harry.”

Harry spun around, startled out of his reverie. Ginny was walking towards him, her own lime green robes making her hair look even more fiery than usual.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching as a Healer cancelled a Charm on someone it’d been too late for. “Has someone checked out Malfoy? He took some damage before we got here.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, slipping an arm around his waist. “I just saw him heading upstairs. Where’s Ron?”

Harry wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, grateful for the warmth. “He should be fine. He’s playing bodyguard to our insurance policy.”

She pinched his hip. “Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

“He’ll be fine. I doubt the aliens are interested, and the politicians will never be able to find them. Shit!”

“What?”

“I forgot Ianto! That’ll be where Malfoy was going. Come on!” He grabbed her hand and dragged her between the piles of bodies that were already being laid out, far too reminiscent of the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Harry! Where are we going!”

“Floor thirteen. I’ve got a patient for you.”

She yanked on his hand, stopping him. “Harry Potter, I am not running up thirteen flights of stairs! Are you a wizard, or what?”

“Oh, right.”

She rolled her eyes as he put his arm around her waist and Apparated them upstairs.

Ianto was sitting on the floor, cradling Harkness’ head in his lap. Malfoy was sat next to him, casting diagnostic and Healing spells. The camera had been turned to face the wall.

“Ah, Potter. And the littlest Weasley. So good of you to join us.”

“You’re feeling better, then” Harry replied.

“I’ll live. I’m not sure about this one,” Malfoy said, indicating Ianto who, now Harry listened, seemed to be having trouble breathing properly. Ianto scowled at him. “I’ve been casting basic healing charms and anti-virals and the like, but it’s not doing more than slow it down.”

Ginny knelt down beside them. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” To Ianto she explained soothingly, “I’m just going to run some diagnostics to start with. It won’t hurt.”

“Just do what you need to do,” he replied. “If it’ll keep me alive, I’m not bothered.”

She nodded, then indicated Harkness. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Ianto ran his hand through Harkness’ hair. “He’ll be all right.”

Ginny looked up at Harry, alarmed.

“It’s fine, Gin. Just do what you need to. Malfoy, has someone checked you over?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Minor damage, all patched up. What’s the next step?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was buggered if he knew. He took a deep breath and thought quickly. “Let’s get the Obliviators sorted and the survivors to St Mungo’s. Then I think we need to re-group. Ginny, will you take Ianto to the hospital?”

Ianto looked up sharply as Ginny nodded.

“It’s OK, we’ll look after him,” He assured Ianto.

 _“Tomorrow your people will deliver the children.”_

Everyone jumped. They had more or less forgotten the alien lurking in its murky fog.

“Fuck you,” Malfoy snarled, and hurled a stinging hex at the thing. It screamed wildly and spat its viscous fluid.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry suggested. He really needed to get away before he lost his grip and hexed the thing to hell and back.

“Harry, what-“ Ginny began.

“I’ll explain later, Gin. Just get him to St Mungo’s, would you?”

“You’d better.” She smiled just a little too sweetly, “Or I’ll tell Mum you’ve been in terrible danger.” Oooh, hardball. “Come on, Ianto is it? Let’s get you to the hospital and see if we can get you fixed up.”

~O~

Cooper was frantic. “Where’s Ianto? Is he all right? I can’t believe you turned the camera away, you bastards.” She grabbed hold of Harkness where he was slipping slightly out of Harry’s grasp.

“He’s fine for now,” Harry assured her. “He’s been taken to the hospital. The wizard hospital,” he clarified at her sharp look.

They lay Harkness on the sofa.

“Malfoy, you should sit down.”

Malfoy scowled at him. “I don’t need you to be my mother, Potter. My own is quite adequate, thank you.”

Fuck, he was annoying. “Malfoy, you nearly got taken down by whatever they did to Clem, then we ran around a thirteen storey office building and cast about a million Bubblehead Charms, and then you were trying to heal Ianto. Sit _the fuck_ down.”

Malfoy blinked at him rapidly and then seated himself in his high-backed chair. Harry flopped down in his own squishy armchair. The aftermath of scenes like the one at Thames House was always difficult. It felt like the whole world should have changed, but you came back to where you’d been and everything was the same. His gaze fell on Clem’s body. Well, almost the same.

Alden had apparently revealed himself while they were gone. “Agent Johnson, are you able to take care of Mr MacDonald?” He asked.

The Lady in Black, Johnson, replied, “Yes, of course. We have facilities.”

“And you’ll release Jack’s family,” Cooper stated sharply from where she was sitting on the arm of the sofa, holding Harkness’ hand.

“Are you sure they aren’t safer where-“

“Oh, and their safety is your top priority, is it? We’ll look after them, thank you.”

“Very well.” Johnson’s response was completely bland. “Jackson, Singh, take the body back to Ashton Down. Have Corporal Kamala make arrangements, then bring Carter and the boy back here.”

Two of the soldiers saluted and ran smartly out. Harry had to admit he was curious about what Harkness’ daughter would be like.

“Is it normal for him to be out this long?” Alden asked, indicating Harkness, who still showed no sign of life.

Cooper, who was now stroking his hair, replied without taking her eyes off his still body, “Some times it takes longer than others.”

If Harry hadn’t seen them both with their partners, he would have sworn they were together. There was something sort of… casually intimate about the way she was touching him.

Harkness gave a quiet gasp, nothing like the great gulping breaths he had taken when he rushed back to life after being shot by Clem. Cooper murmured quietly to him for a moment. He glanced around. “Ianto?”

“All survivors were taken to the Wizard hospital for treatment.” Harry didn’t want to keep him in suspense.

“Will he be OK?”

Harry floundered for something more reassuring to say than, ‘He hasn’t died yet.’

“It’s impossible to tell at this point,” Malfoy put in dispassionately. Harry winced a little at the bluntness. “We interrupted his intake of the virus quite early, which certainly slowed it down, but we have no idea what the long-term effects may be. Meanwhile, our initial assault has been well and truly repelled.” He looked at Johnson. “I assume the government still intends to go ahead with their ridiculous ‘vaccine’ plan?”

“Correct.” Johnson replied.

“They’re going into the schools at 12,” Cooper said.

“Well, that part’s fine,” Malfoy said, waving a hand. The two women looked at him and he rolled his eyes. “I mean to say that the Aurors have been sent to ensure that the buses won’t reach their destinations. The difficult part is what happens when the aliens don’t receive their ransom. We can’t put Bubbleheads on everyone in the world, I think they’d notice.”

“I have people searching for the alien ship,” Johnson said. “If we can blast it out of space, that should resolve the issue.”

Cooper looked at her, puzzled. “I thought they couldn’t find the ship.”

“There’s quite a difference between asking someone if they can see an alien vessel in the area and telling them that there certainly is one and millions of people will die if they don’t find it. It focuses the mind wonderfully.”

Malfoy looked approving.

“Well, that’s great,” Harry said. “But what’s Plan B?”

~O~

It turned out that Harkness’ daughter was scary. She’d marched into their warehouse, arm wrapped protectively around her son and trailed by Johnson’s soldiers, looking like she was ready and willing to bite someone’s head off and just needed to decide whose.

Her gaze had swept over Harkness and Johnson like she’d come back to them if other heads weren’t suitable. Harkness had said nothing, but something in his posture had looked like a kicked puppy. Johnson had just produced a cup of tea for her and a Coke for the kid. She’d swept past Cooper, but lingered suspiciously over Harry, Malfoy and Alden. “Wizards, apparently,” Johnson had supplied. The woman, Alice, had blinked at her and Johnson had just shrugged. “My entire worldview is being rearranged for me. Drawing a line there seemed arbitrary.”

The boy had raced to his ‘Uncle Jack’, talking at a million words a minute about how they’d been put in a cell and chased by men with guns, and how his mother had smacked one of them in the face with the chopping block. The pair of them looked nothing alike, except for the twin looks of pride on their faces over that.

Malfoy had his Transfigured board hovering again. In a cloud in the middle was written _‘456’_. A box to one side said _‘Destroy ship’_. The rest of the board was empty.

“This is ridiculous, there must be _something_ ,” Gwen said. “Everything has a weakness.”

“Yes,” Alden replied, “But they’ve guarded theirs well. We only have access to one individual, so we can’t harm the rest of them. Our air is harmful to them, but we have no way to expose any of them but the ambassador to it.”

Harry jumped as Johnson and her soldiers, along with Harkness and Cooper all pulled their guns. “Wait!” He shouted, recognising the owl that had flown in through one of the high broken windows.

“What-“, Johnson began.

“It’s how we send letters,” Harry explained. “By owl. Don’t shoot it!”

The owl swooped around the warehouse before coming to perch on Harry’s upraised arm. “Hey, Nike,” Harry murmured to the owl, “What have you got?” He detached Ginny’s letter from the owl’s leg. “No treats today I’m afraid, but I’ll give you extra next time, OK?”

The little owl gave him a disdainful look, then looked around the room at the baffled soldiers with possibly even more disdain. She hooted, then took off.

“It’s from Ginny,” he said. “They’ve had several more people die from the virus, but they were all from the foyer – they’d been exposed the longest. The healers have been able to work out a cure for the virus and now they’re working on healing the damage in the survivors.” He looked at Harkness and smiled. “Looks like Ianto’s going to be OK.”

Harkness closed his eyes and let out a breath that it seemed he’d been holding for hours.

“And who’s Ianto?” Alice asked archly? “Cradle robbing, Dad?”

“Hey,” Harkness replied with a wink, “If anyone’s cradle robbing, it’s him. I won’t even be _born_ for another three thousand years!”

She smirked. “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’.”

“So,” Malfoy said, “If the worst happens and the virus is released we have a cure, but only if victims are treated quickly. And we have to work out how to manage treating Muggles without utterly negating the Statute of Secrecy.”

“In other words,” Harry replied, “We still need to stop it before it gets that far.” Malfoy looked at him grimly. They were still short of ideas.

“Alright, 456,” Alice pronounced. Everyone turned to look at her. “That’s not their actual name, right? It’s what we refer to them as because it’s the wavelength they communicate on, correct?”

Harkness agreed, and a box with the word _‘Wavelength’_ appeared on Malfoy’s board.

“We must be able to do something with that. Wavelengths can be manipulated in both directions. But how?”

“I have no idea,” Johnson said, smiling at Alice, “But I think I know of someone who does.”

~O~

“There’s nothing you can _do_.” This Dekker guy was a pain in the arse. “I’ve analysed those transmissions for _forty years_ and never broken through to them.” Johnson seemed to think Dekker was a pain in the arse as well, if the way her fingers kept twitching toward her gun was anything to go by.

Even Harkness was looking annoyed. “We’ve got technology way beyond you.”

Dekker sneered. “We hacked into Torchwood _years_ ago, you idiot. There’s nothing.”

Harkness glared at Johnson, who shrugged. At least the soldiers had brought back Dekker’s equipment. They had also brought a load of electric lights so that end of the warehouse was functioning entirely on electricity. Harry had cancelled his warming charms and moved all of his blue lights down to the far end, where Steven was kicking a ball around with a couple of the soldiers.

“If we cycle the wavelength back at them…” Harkness began.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Dekker interrupted. “The Constructive Wave. Do you think people aren’t working on that all over the world? But it’s never going to work. The effect would be like shouting at the 456, that’s all. Just shouting.”

“Merlin, I hate people like you.” Malfoy said. “You’re supposedly trying to work out a way to beat them, but you’re so bloody impressed with them, all you do is talk about how amazing and invincible they are. I don’t want to hear it. I want to hear you trying to come up with a fucking _plan_. They killed Clem, probably the same way they controlled the children. There’s _something_ there. Now use your brain instead of your mouth.”

“Clem.” Harkness said. “They killed Clem.”

“With the wavelength,” Johnson put in, dashing to her laptop and clicking things quickly. “This is the 456 at the moment of his death. We’ve lifted the transmission from the Thames House link.”

The screeching sound was the same as had come from Hermione’s laptop when the aliens had killed Clem. “That sound, Mr Dekker,” Harkness said, looking at Dekker with a challenge. “What’s that sound?”

Dekker looked at the laptop with wonder. “I don’t know. It’s new.”

Harkness smirked at him. “Exactly. It’s new.”

“So,” Alden said, “We have a recording of a fatal sound pattern, and the frequency on which to broadcast it?”

“But no way to transmit it,” Alice pointed out.

“Of course you have,” Dekker said, with all the smug malice of the most self-satisfied Death Eater Harry had ever met.

Everyone paused, trying to work out what he was talking about.

“Shut up,” said Harkness.

“Same way as them,” Dekker pressed. Harry had an awful feeling he knew what the little toad was getting at.

“I’ll find something else,” Harkness said, but he sounded uncertain and Harry knew he wouldn’t. Apparently this was the way it always had to be. Harry looked to the other end of the warehouse, where the boy was celebrating some kind of victory.

Johnson was demanding an explanation, and Dekker was all too pleased to give it to her. Harry was still watching Steven. At least Harry had survived being the sacrificial lamb, if only just.

Alice was trying desperately to deny it, to refuse. The good mother. But Harry knew that no matter how powerful a mother’s love, there were things it couldn’t protect you from.

“No,” Malfoy said, determined.

“We’re running out of time,” Johnson said flatly.

“ _No!_ ” Malfoy insisted. “There will be none of this ‘for the greater good’ bullshit.” He was pacing furiously, scrubbing his hand through his hair and over his face as he talked. There was something incredibly compelling about him at that moment, although Harry would have been hard pressed to say for certain whether it was the long legs gracefully striding across the warehouse floor, or his categoric refusal to allow the good of mankind to rest on the shoulders of a child. “You’re talking about simple resonance, yes? I’m sure we can work out some arithmantic equations to get this to work _without_ murdering the brat. It’s not as if we don’t already have a sample.”

“Any chance of you translating that into English?” Harkness bit out. He had lost the easy grace of earlier, and his movements were tight and tense.

“Resonance. It’s the basis for sympathetic magic. It’s one of the older branches, and mostly out-dated, but Polyjuice is an example. It takes a piece of an individual, or in some cases a representation, and uses that to affect the original individual. Actually, Polyjuice is almost the reverse, but it’s the same theory.” He turned to Harry. “It’s why you Banish moulted hair and nail clippings and the like. You never know what someone might do with that sort of thing.”

“Oh, right,” Harry mumbled, “Sure.” Hopefully Malfoy wouldn’t-

“Potter? You _do_ Banish your moulted mop and clippings, don’t you?”

Harry couldn’t meet his eyes. Intently watching the toe of his trainer poke at a stain on the floor that looked vaguely like France, he said, “Absolutely. Yes, of course.”

Malfoy was staring at him, he could _feel_ it. “Were you actually _born_ with no sense of self-preservation, or did you lose it later in life? How on earth have you managed to avoid some grisly fate?”

“Perhaps we could come back to the point, gentlemen?” Johnson snapped. “You are suggesting that there’s an alternative course of action. Explain. In language we can all understand, please.”

For a moment Malfoy looked rebellious, then he swung himself onto the table, sitting cross-legged on it. “It’s not really an alternative course of action, just an alternative application. Rather than using a human child as the focal point, we use their own ambassador to transmit the frequency.”

“What do you need?” Johnson asked.

“Right now I need a bigger board, and an estimate of the minimum distance to the alien ship. Then we’re going to need access to Thames House, probably with a lot of equipment.” He jumped off the table. “Alden, it’s time to get your Ravenclaw on.”

~O~

While Malfoy and Alden worked out their ritual, Harry Apparated to the Ministry to update Kingsley.

“We’ve got Gold Command locked down in their briefing room and have taken down their communications. Their original orders of taking the children from the first list of schools still stands.” Kingsley had probably been awake about as long as Harry had, judging from the way he was slumped back in his chair. “By the way, between the politicians, the survivors of Thames House and the nearly two hundred thousand children we’ve collected from the schools, you are firmly on the Obliviators’ bad books.”

“You could leave the kids alone,” Harry suggested.

Kingsley blinked at him. “Harry, they’ve seen us. We can’t let them remember. Not to mention that they’re all probably traumatised.”

“But what have they actually seen?” Harry asked. “Most of them will only know that they’ve been rounded up and taken away from their parents. There might be a few who remember seeing people with wands, but they don’t actually _know_ anything. And even if they tell someone they saw people doing magic, who’s going to believe them? As for trauma, nothing’s actually happened to them. They got taken away from their schools, kept somewhere overnight and then they’ll be taken back to their schools. They’ll be a bit frightened, but kids are resilient. They’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, Harry.”

“Talk to the Obliviators, Kingsley.” Harry grinned. “If nothing else, at least let them know I was thinking of them. That’s a bunch of people I really don’t want to be in trouble with!”

Kingsley stood. “I’ll talk to them. Let me know as soon as you can if Malfoy’s ritual succeeds.”

~O~

The room on Floor Thirteen of Thames House was much as they’d left it, although without the flashing lights and sirens. He Petrified the alien quickly. A Stunner and Incarcerous took care of the military officer guy who appeared to now be doing the talking. Harry wondered where Frobisher had got to.

He felt a bit silly wandering around wearing a Bubblehead charm, but they’d all agreed it was better to be safe than sorry. Thames House was pretty much deserted, apart from a few soldiers standing guard over the bodies of the victims of the virus.

With Floor Thirteen secured, he went down to let in Johnson’s soldiers. They’d grumbled a bit about having moved all of Dekker’s equipment to the warehouse and then having to bring it back to Thames House, but not where Johnson could hear them. He put Bubbleheads on each of them as they came in, then followed them back upstairs to wait for Malfoy and the others.

Alden arrived by car with Harkness, Johnson, Dekker and a pretty but nervous young woman who was apparently The Temp. “Ms Cooper’s staying at the warehouse with Ms Carter and her son,” he said. “With the politicians under guard we’ve recalled Weasley and Williams. Weasley will be the Auror guard for them.”

“Where’s Malfoy?”

“He’s gone home to cleanse himself.” He’d buggered off for a bath? “We are making a certain amount of this up as we go, so we felt it was better to adhere to the old rituals as much as possible.”

Harry murmured some vague assent as his mind supplied the image of Malfoy performing this ritual, whatever it might involve, in the nude. He happily indulged in his little daydream while Harkness and Dekker directed the soldiers in setting up the equipment.

Eventually Malfoy Apparated into the room. He was wearing a plain but finely made white robe that made him look ridiculously ethereal. In one hand he was carrying a leather bag, and in the other a dark green potion flask.

The soldiers were dismissed to stand guard outside the room. Dekker and Harkness powered down the electrical equipment to protect it from the magic that Malfoy would draw with the ritual. Johnson and Alden joined Harry at the back of the room, followed by Harkness and Dekker once the equipment was as safe as they could make it. It was all down to Malfoy now.

Malfoy walked around the tank, taking handfuls of a white powder (“Salt,” Alden murmured) from the leather bag and letting it trickle out of his hand as he walked in a circle around the tank, enclosing himself with the alien in its tank. Every now and then he stopped to murmur something.

Once the circle was complete Malfoy tucked the bag under his left elbow and opened the potion flask. Tipping a small amount of the oily liquid into his left hand, he used his right to draw runes on the glass walls of the tank. He moved around the tank in the same clockwise direction he lad laid the circle, pausing to pour more oil into his hand and drawing more of the runes, murmuring all the while. A clean, spicy smell began to permeate the room, tickling Harry’s nose.

Eventually he was done, and the tank was as covered in oily runes on the outside as it was with excretions on the inside. He looked at the circle of salt on the floor, then back at the eerily lit tank. Then he drew a deep breath and scrubbed his foot across the circle, breaking it as he stepped out. He capped the flask and shook his left hand a little, as if it stung, then brought the leather bag out from under his elbow and began to walk a second, slightly larger circle, this time with him on the outside.

When it was complete he walked to the back of the room and nodded to Harkness. Harkness and Dekker went to start up the equipment and Malfoy flopped back against the wall next to Harry, shaking his left hand out again. The smell of the oil was much stronger, and Harry thought he could make out peppermint and maybe rosemary.

Harry looked more closely at Malfoy’s robe, picking out the fine embroidered leaves at the neckline and cuffs.

“You didn’t expect me to do the ritual naked did you, Potter?” Malfoy smirked at him.

“No!” Harry flushed. Thinking about it wasn’t the same as _expecting_ it. “Are you OK?” Harry asked.

Malfoy reached for his wand. “Fine. You’re just not really supposed to touch this stuff for this long. It stings like a bastard.”

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand. “Here.” He cast a gentle cleaning charm on Malfoy’s hand. The skin was pinker than it should be, and slightly swollen. He cast a healing charm, and Malfoy sighed in relief.

Harry stroked the healed palm gently then looked up at Malfoy’s face, slightly distorted by their Bubblehead charms. “What about the other one?”

Malfoy offered his right hand. The fingers were pink and swollen like his left palm. Taking the offered hand carefully, he cast the cleaning and healing charms again and watched the fingers became the pale, elegant digits he hadn’t realised he was used to seeing.

A sudden deep thrumming sound broke the moment, and he realised he was standing there, holding Malfoy’s hand. He let go and cleared his throat, looking to the front of the room where Harkness was glancing between the machinery in front of him and the alien’s tank. From the corner of his eye Harry saw Malfoy fold his arms and tuck his hands protectively against his chest.

Harkness hit a key with a flourish, then turned his attention fully to the alien. The now-familiar screeching sound began. At first nothing seemed to happen, but after a moment Harry’s Petrificus broke, and the alien began shrieking and lashing out. It spat at the windows of the tank and threw its three heads against them over and over, adding a percussive effect to the chaotic music in the room.

Its screams became louder and its thrashing more frantic, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel any pity for it. It gave one almighty screech and collapsed in its tank. Now they just had to wait and see whether their transmission had done the same to its cohorts in space, or whether their defiance would be punished.

Even with the electronic screeching noise of the transmission, the room felt still and quiet as everyone simply stood and waited. Harry felt very conscious of the warmth of Malfoy standing at his shoulder.

Suddenly the screeching stopped, leaving a silence that rang almost as loudly. “I think that’s enough,” Dekker said. He moved out from behind his station and walked over to the tank, staring at the dark shape collapsed on the floor. His shoulders were slumped and Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for the man or repulsed by him.

Alden stepped briskly forward, breaking the stillness of the room. “Well. Back to the warehouse, then.” He looked over at the tank. “Agent Johnson, will you-“

“We’ll deal with it.” Harkness interrupted sharply. “If it’s alien, it’s ours.”

Johnson just nodded vaguely, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Harry reached for the mobile phone in his pocket. He needed to let Ron and Kingsley know it was over.

~O~

The atmosphere in the warehouse was celebratory. Ginny had brought Ianto back, looking his usual well-turned-out self, and had quickly made friends with Cooper and Alice.

There was no grand reunion between Ianto and Harkness, just a quick glance over and a smile while Ianto poured more cups of coffee, but it was the sort of smile that excluded the entire world for just a moment. Harry felt a pang of envy.

Williams nudged Ron and the pair of them started pulling packs of beer and bottles of wine out from behind the sofa. Packets of crisps and, Harry pulled a face, the inevitable pork scratchings were thrown on the table as well, along with a packet of plastic cups.

Johnson looked a little awkward with the good natured bickering over crisp flavours and where the hell had the bottle opener disappeared to, they’d definitely bought one. After a moment she walked over to Harkness and drew him aside for a brief but very earnest conversation, which ended with a handshake. When she rejoined the rest of the group Alice offered her a glass of wine. It turned out that Johnson had a really pretty smile.

Malfoy was chatting casually with Ianto, periodically sipping from his beer. Harry tried not to stare too hard at the pink mouth wrapped around the lip of the bottle.

Meanwhile, Cooper and Ginny were having an alarmingly giggly conversation that involved a lot of looking from Harry to Malfoy. He took the beer Williams offered and started ignoring the girls as hard as he could. He didn’t really know Cooper, but no good could come of Ginny plotting.

Ron and Alden were getting a lecture on the rules of football from Steven, who couldn’t quite believe that Ron had no idea how it was played. Harry grinned. He wished Steven better luck than Dean had had explaining football to Ron.

Harry was watching Alice making tentative overtures to her quietly delighted father when Malfoy walked up to him. He tried to ignore how closely they were being watched by Ginny and Cooper.

“I thought you weren’t interested, but you’re actually just that oblivious, aren’t you?” Malfoy said.

“What?” Harry turned to face him, confused.

Suddenly Malfoy’s hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him forward into a kiss that was everything he had thought it might be.

“Oh. Right,” he said, when his mouth was free for speaking and his brain had remembered how. “Um. Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to, um, maybe go to Fortescue’s tomorrow. You know. Ice cream.”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment and laughed. “I would be delighted, Potter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 H/D Smoochfest.


End file.
